


Ultraviolet

by Ad_Astra



Series: Ultraviolet [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Humour, M/M, Multi, Voyeurism, cheap lecherous jokes, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ad_Astra/pseuds/Ad_Astra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set 12YL. Prolonged exposure to Rokudo Mukuro can cause damage to your everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ultraviolet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirui](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirui/gifts).



One Saturday afternoon finds Sawada Tsunayoshi, Vongola Decimo and leader of the world’s largest underground empire, perusing an all-too-familiar set of papers. On the left pile, there’s a fifteen column accounting worksheet, torn out pages of what seems to be an article on an exorcism gone awry, and six sheets of actual mission reports, handwritten in psychedelic ink, and riddled with random lines of dried blood, because the guardian in question deems it a serviceable substitute for correction fluid. On the right pile, there’s a civil lawsuit, a property acquisition contract of a rather unconscionable nature, and a single leaf of notebook paper containing two paragraphs of report details, the penmanship sharp and angry, like the telltale marks of bird scratches on the sides. 

 

With a decisive snap of his wrist, he retrieves his phone and presses number 9 on the speed dial. Spanner answers on the third ring.

 

“Is it ready?” Tsuna asks, as he makes the last amendments to the contract in red ink.

 

“Just finished it Vongola.”

 

“Good,” he replies, setting his pen down. “Send the manual to my office. I’ll call you if I need anything.”

 

“Noted.”

 

Tsuna ends the call and laces his fingers together, resting his chin on top of them. He glances at the sheet of stationery paper where the New Year’s resolutions Reborn forced on him are written down, looking at the first item:

 

_Drop down current number one ranking of “Mafia Boss Most Likened to Buddha.”  Remarks: Bad for business._

 

Over the course of time, Sawada Tsunayoshi eventually transformed from a boss who says “The usual intimidation tactics are not working, try to bribe them instead,” to the kind who says, “The usual intimidation tactics are not working, send in Hibari-san and Mukuro.” And sometimes, in dire situations, “The usual intimidation tactics are not working, send in Lussuria and make sure he wears the lucky yellow spandex suit.”

 

It still isn’t enough, and apparently, even with his newly acquired cruel and unusual methods of doing shady business, he’s still a paragon of kindness in the underground world, but it’s a definite improvement. Besides, it’s barely three weeks into the new year. He’s got plenty of time. So he moves on to New Year’s resolution Number Two.

 

_In line of #1:  Stop erasing debts, no matter how nice they are, or how many children they have, or how many cat macros they send, or how many sexual favours they promise. Remarks: In relation to that last point, always double-check if Mukuro’s disguising himself as you again._

 

He looks back at the papers on his desk. As of these reports, Hibari Kyouya and Rokudo Mukuro have found themselves on the red side of Tsuna’s ledger. Not for the first time, or the second or even the twentieth but this is certainly the first time Tsuna’s going to do something about it.

 

This has been coming for twelve years.

 

New Year’s resolution number three:

 

_Collect._

 

*

 

The deadly crack of a whip slices through the still air of Vongola HQ’s zen garden as it hits the space where Hibari’s head had just been a second before. Under normal circumstances, Hibari would never allow a fight to tarnish the private spot of Vongola land he appropriated in all but name, but Dino had actually _ambushed_ him, in a rare show of battle initiative. Hibari’s too pumped up with adrenaline to consider transferring elsewhere, though he did give a severe warning to his so-called former tutor that any destruction of the greenery and stone structures will be paid back in blood.

 

“It’s been thirty minutes and you’ve barely landed a hit,” Hibari mocks, lips twisted in his customary carnivorous smirk. “You’re losing your touch, herbivore.”

 

Dino chuckles, letting the insult slide. “Kyouya, we’ve been sparring buddies for twelve years. Surely I should have graduated from herbivore status by now.”

 

Hibari swings his tonfa with the intention of shattering Dino’s jaw, which Dino dodges uneventfully. “The length of time I’ve known you is irrelevant. You willingly took on an alias which includes the word 'horse.' Horses are herbivores. Therefore, you are a herbivore,” he states in his ever reliable dose of textbook logical syllogism. “And if you call me your buddy again, I will impale you on a spike.”

 

As usual, Dino opts to ignore this threat completely. “Hasn’t your very simplistic world philosophy evolved over the past twelve years?” he asks, and gets a solid hit to the solar plexus for his cheek.

 

“Disappointing,” Hibari sneers. “Hasn’t your technique evolved over the past twelve years? Old man.”

 

“I resent that remark,” Dino wheezes out, clutching his stomach as he once again avoids an otherwise fatal blow with a combination of luck and Romario’s presence in the nearby vicinity. “Yes, I’m no spring chicken but I’m still keeping up with you aren’t I?”

 

“As you should, since I would’ve already killed you otherwise,” Hibari answers indifferently, predator reflexes allowing him to easily avoid Dino’s retaliating strike.

 

Dino quickly darts a few steps out of range and has the temerity to turn his attention away from the battle briefly to check his watch.  Hibari brings back his attention by meaningfully activating his newly installed spiked chain flails.

 

Dino groans. “Seriously? I had to get a new tattoo to cover up the bite marks from the last time!”

 

Hibari rolls his eyes at Dino’s whining. “Only the weak let themselves be distracted,” he says, before promptly sending a chain shooting in Dino’s direction. “Pony herbivore.”

 

Dino barely dodges, one of the spikes managing to graze his arm and tear at his new Versace suit. “Okay fine, since we’re still on the topic of your world philosophy,” he says, doing some complex footwork to move out of the way of Hibari’s continuous assault.  “Can you tell me what the deadliest animal in the world is?”

 

Hibari responds by retracting the chains and attempting to tear off Dino's wrist instead with the new mini buzz-saw upgrade to his tonfa.

 

Dino dodges neatly, spins around, and sends his whip sailing past Hibari’s ear. Hibari twists to the side, smirking at Dino's lousy aim when he feels the smallest pinch on the side of his neck.

 

Dino’s grin is knife-sharp and victorious as he looks up to a point beyond Hibari. Hibari turns and follows his gaze to see Dr. Shamal's back disappearing from the balcony.

 

Goddamit. He should've included bug repellent to the latest tonfa improvements.

 

"Sorry Kyouya." Then Dino flings a sprig of sakura petals from his pocket and Hibari falls like a house of cards.

 

*

 

Mukuro, going against all expected behaviour, follows Tsuna towards the laboratory without much fuss, though not without the inappropriate touches and suggestive trident handling that usually come with a request for his elusive Mist guardian’s company. Tsuna bears it like a grim champion, doing nothing to discourage Mukuro’s leering. He’s a man on a mission after all.

 

"So this is the new interrogation machinery Spanner built,” Tsuna says, stepping over to the device. “I figured that you being our best informant should probably take a look at it, give us your opinions, do some personal testing, you know, the usual drill."

 

"Of course, Tsunayoshi," Mukuro replies absently, running his hand along the steel contraption. "So what features does this thing have?"

 

"Well, it can spin fast enough to knock your consciousness to the next universe,” Tsuna answers, consulting the manual given by Spanner. “It’s made from an alloy infused with lightning flames, has remote activation, adjustable restraints and hidden storage compartments for all your toys and tools of physical persuasion. It’s also impossible to break out of without the use of very strong flames. And even then, one would have to concentrate the flame to a single point to make a crack."

 

"Assuming they have enough flames after going through me," Mukuro says, poking a bond paper sized indent raised in the middle, indicating a movable part. "What does this do?"

 

Tsuna checks the manual again. “According to Spanner it’s… back support. Huh."

 

"An interrogation appliance that cares about the comfort of its captive! How novel,” Mukuro coos. His eyes continue to travel the expanse of the huge discs, humming approvingly at the sliding three-inch thick steel cuffs. “Anything else?” he asks, once he’s finished with his once-over. “Like, does it vibrate by any chance?"

 

"Whaa- No! Why would it?"

 

Mukuro makes a clucking noise at the back of his throat. "A pity."

 

"Yes, so anyway, do you care to test it?" Tsuna says, leaning back against one of the plates, hands tucked behind his neck, and cocks his head to the side. “There’s two of them.”

 

Mukuro grins, immediately picking up on Tsuna’s shift in behaviour, and leans in close. "Why Tsunayoshi, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

 

Tsuna flushes but keeps his cool, reminding himself to wash out his mouth with copious amounts of whiskey later for the absolutely filthy words that he’s about to say. "And if I am?" he asks, reaching out to undo the first button of Mukuro’s shirt. “Is it working?”

 

“Oh my,” Mukuro whispers, eyes watching the surprisingly deft movement of Tsuna’s fingers.  “Does your wife know about this?”

 

Tsuna takes one of Mukuro’s hands, and idly runs a thumb along the crease of his wrist. “No, but I bet she’ll find it hot,” he says, and quick as a flash, pushes Mukuro against the opposite plate and secures a cuff around his hand.

 

Mukuro doesn’t even bat an eyelid. "How convenient that I let Chrome have the Vongola gear today,” he murmurs placidly, giving a half-hearted tug at his arm, allowing Tsuna to pin his other wrist.

 

“You weren’t even trying were you,” Tsuna says accusingly, feeling somewhat cheated that all that time practicing biting his lip seductively in front of the mirror had all been for naught. He removes all of Mukuro’s hell and mist rings and pockets them. “You knew what I was planning?”

 

Mukuro laughs. “You’re adorable Tsunayoshi, but leave the honey trap tactics to Takeshi and me,” he says, and makes a helpful effort to stay utterly still, as Tsuna secures both his ankles to the device. “So what’s this about?”

 

"Obviously, you are being punished," Tsuna answers, standing up and patting Mukuro down for hidden weapons.

 

"Oh am I? Is this about that python I let loose in your plumbing to celebrate the Year of the Snake?"

 

With Mukuro, it‘s really difficult to tell whether he is being serious or making a pass, or both, which is where Hyper Intuition comes very handy. But there are much bigger matters of import at hand. "... There are snakes in my suite's plumbing?"

 

As if on cue, a high-pitched scream resounds from somewhere in the west wing- probably Marietta, his personal maid, followed by an alarm, and the sound of running feet, signifying that a response team is on the way.  Tsuna is suddenly very tempted to forgo his personal taboo of not punching defenseless men in the nuts.

 

"Don't worry, I've already asked my darling Chrome to sort it out,” Mukuro assures him. “But if it's not the snake, what is it?"

 

Tsuna looks up wearily at his psychotic guardian's unflappable expression. "Where do I start?"

 

Mukuro’s face displays an annoying lack of concern. ”Remind me.”

 

"How about that time you set the Foundation's Alarm system to the Nyancat song and proceeded to light scented candles under the smoke detectors?"

 

"I was proving a point to Kyouya, that his electronics system is ancient and in need of replacement—“

 

“—Or that time in Namimori where you disguised yourself as Hibari-san and patrolled the school grounds in nothing but his coat, armband, and a cherry red Angry Birds thong—“

 

"—Well, you cannot fault its effectiveness, people gave me a wide berth just the same—“

 

“—Or that time during the quarterly meeting with the Varia where you changed my laptop wallpaper to a picture of yourself sunbathing nude on Nami Chuu's rooftop—“

 

"—In my defense, Lussuria totally appreciated it and it did shut up that loud shark for a full minute—"

 

"—I don't know what's worse, you thinking that this is all fun and games, or that you’re actually rationalizing this with  _Lussuria's_ approval. Hibari-san also reported ‘suspicious stains’—“

 

"—That was suntan oil—“

 

"—And he forced me to replace the roof tiles to rid it of your—" and here, the Vongola Decimo brings up his fingers to create freaking air quotes, “—befouling essence."

 

Mukuro opens his mouth, pauses briefly, and appears to discard what he’s originally about to say. "What did you do with the tiles you replaced?" he asks instead.

 

"Hibari-san and the DC took care of it."

 

"Oh. I thought those broken bits of granite tile in my room looked familiar. "

 

"I had to remodel that too."

 

Mukuro sighs piteously. "Look, it's not my fault that pigeon-lips Kyouya doesn't have a sense of humour."

 

Tsuna fixes him the patented why-is-this-my-life look of utter exasperation. "I think you are confusing sense of humour with  _persistent rape of Hibari-san's Namimory legacy_ ,” he says. “Bottom line is, your antics piss off Hibari-san which in turn inconveniences  _me._ ” He raises his hand and pokes Mukuro’s chest. “So here. Detainment."

 

"You make it sound like I'm the only problem Guardian,” Mukuro complains, frowning. “Those petty crimes are nothing compared to the architecture your right-hand man destroys on a weekly basis. Or what Kyouya did that time in Mumbai with the cows and the spitroast."

 

Tsuna cringes as he remembers the catastrophic nightmare that was the cleanup for Hibari’s mission byproduct of upsetting a long-standing religious order. "Hibari-san will be punished,” he answers, and takes a moment to savour the truth in those words. “I'm going to stick him here. With you."

 

Mukuro makes a dramatic gasp, and would've made a complimentary hands-wringing gesture if he has any use of his arms. "That's so hurtful Tsunayoshi. Are you saying my mere company is suitable punishment for the gravity of that violent man’s crimes?”

 

"No Mukuro, I'm saying that your presence is everlasting torment to everyone around you."

 

Mukuro pouts. "And here I thought this whole kinky bondage set-up means you’re finally making use of the S&M manual I confiscated in my last covert mission at the Marchessi family’s strip club,” he says, looking greatly put-out. “All that's missing is the paddle, the Aneros device, and the apron with the cut out crotch."

 

Tsuna ignores this but internally vows right there and then that he never wants to know what the hell an Aneros device is supposed to be. “Okay,” he says, patting off his hands and backing away. “I'm done here. I am going to leave you now—"

 

"—Oh wait- I think I sent that one to Kyouya—"

 

"—so you can think about what you did—“

 

“—but instead of Aneros, it's a purple rubber egg vibe with the Namimori crest—“

 

“—and I'm going to prevent further psychological trauma—“

 

“—and plays the Nami-chuu school anthem on the highest setting."

 

“—and pretend that this entire conversation never happened."

 

"That would turn him on, don't you think?"

 

Tsuna swiftly pivots on his heel and marches off. "Goodbye, Mukuro."

 

"You forgot to pat down the front of my pants!" Mukuro calls out after him. Tsuna walks a little faster.

 

"I could be hiding weapons of mass destruction in here you know!"

 

Tsuna slams the door shut a little harder than necessary and runs off, fishing his communicator from his pocket. “The snake pit is ready. Over.”

 

Dino’s voice floats through the responding static. “The early bug has gotten the bird. Over."

 

 _Jeez, we really need to think of better code names._  “Good." He opens the door to the observation room and sees Reborn and Gokudera already waiting. "Proceed with phase 2," he says, noting how Gokudera's face lights up with delight at the words.

 

 “Over.”

 

*

 

Hibari’s head feels like it is filled with cotton fuzz. His eyes are heavy, and he takes an unusual amount of  effort just to blearily crack them open. Predictably, his vision is blurred, the world registering to him in fleshy blobs and muted colours, dregs of the sakura disease apparently still in his system. He could hear faint voices around him, talking in low hushed tones.

 

“….Are you sure …. put the…. there?”

 

The voices slowly become more intelligible. He tries to move his body, and discovers to his utmost consternation that his limbs are restrained by what seem to be industrial strength steel cuffs. He is also vaguely aware of a hand wedged between his buttocks and whatever it is he’s leaning on.

 

“… Such an unsavoury individual, copping a feel on your unconscious ex-student.”

 

Smooth liquid voice on perpetual bedroom mode. Rokudo Mukuro.

 

“You’re one to talk,” another familiar and much too close voice replies. Cavallone. “Also, I’m _not_ copping a feel, I am just… checking his back pockets for extra gear.” A succeeding squeeze on his ass belies this statement.

 

“Sure you are. Not that I blame you, I want some of that too.”

 

“Kyouya doesn’t like you.”

 

Not true. Hibari doesn’t like soda, Italian food and guns. Rokudo Mukuro offends him just by existing.

 

“As if he likes you any better.”

 

Mukuro has a point. Besides which, Dino’s not earning himself any credit by continuing this shameless violation on Hibari’s person which puts Dino at par with the pineapple herbivore he’s arguing with.

 

“Of course he does. I’m his beloved tutor.”

 

The self-assured tone in Dino’s voice sends a surge of irritation through Hibari, finally coercing the rest of his body to cooperate. “I will bite you dead for your insolence.”

 

Dino nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of Hibari’s voice and hastily moves back.  “Oh hey, Kyouya you’re up,” he says with a nervous laugh. “That was fast.... I was hoping you won’t notice me leaving…”

 

Hibari, hearing Dino’s mumbling perfectly, shoots him a poisonous look, before blinking away the last of his grogginess and turning to look at his surroundings. He appears to be in the robotics laboratory in Vongola HQ, judging from the solid steel walls, the array of Moscas on the far left, several bazookas of dubious structure on the right, and couple of toolboxes haphazardly strewn around the lab. “What is this,” he says and doesn’t ask, soft voice carrying the gentle threat of a hurled shinai.

 

“Oh this?” Mukuro glances at his cuffs as if he just remembered that they are there. “Tsunayoshi says he’s punishing us. Isn’t that precious?”

 

“He’s punishing _me_?” Hibari says, incredulity overriding the initial anger for a few moments. He has to commend Sawada Tsunayoshi for his sheer nerve though, right before Hibari delivers him an excruciating, drawn-out death. Brave and stupid, the leading qualities of Mafioso leaders today.

 

“And Mukuro,” Dino pipes up, as if trying to placate Hibari with the knowledge that he isn’t alone in his suffering, though his fellow captive seems like he’s anything but. Hibari glares at him again, and Dino takes another few steps back, smiling uneasily. “Anyway uh, I have to go. My job’s done here.”

 

“No it’s not. Release me at once,” Hibari commands.

 

Dino shakes his head. “Sorry Kyouya, but I’ve promised full support to Tsuna on this one. You want out, you have to work for it,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. He checks his phone, blanches and hurriedly starts moving. “Reborn’s calling. I’ll leave you two gentlemen alone now. Play nice!” he calls out behind him. Seconds later, the door shuts with an ominous thud.  

 

Hibari jerks at his cuffs angrily for a few more minutes, and eventually slumps back, when all he gets out of his efforts are chafed wrists. Across from him, Mukuro smiles, as if thoroughly entertained by Hibari’s discomfort.

 

“What are you smiling at?” Hibari snaps.

 

“You. I’m playing nice,” Mukuro answers, and punctuates this by licking his lips and winking saucily in his direction.  

 

There are no words to describe how much Hibari hates this man. And now he’s immobile, defenseless, and vertically spread-eagle on a strange metal contraption that seems to be designed to do structural damage,  with no other company but his for an indeterminate amount of time.

 

_You’d better have a death wish, Sawada Tsunayoshi._

*

 

  

“Belated Happy New Year Hayato,” Tsuna says with a wobbly smile, as he hands the control panel to his right-hand man.

 

Gokudera takes the tablet carefully into his hands as if Tsuna just presented him a baby U.M.A. from outer space. “Tenth, this is the best gift ever,” he whispers reverently, green eyes shining with joyful tears. “I’m so happy I could die.”

 

“Er, I’d prefer it if you don’t,” Tsuna says, still in the process of believing that he’s actually granting Gokudera his one wish of presiding over Hibari and Mukuro’s first ever joint punishment. Other people gave wine bottles or expensive watches or jewelry, but the Vongola is already so inundated with accessories of the lethal, extra-dimensional summoning sort, that all anyone has to do is show up to battle in full bling to effectively psych out the opposition.  

 

Besides, Tsuna’s pretty sure that letting Gokudera take the reins is a much more cruel and vindictive punishment than anything else Tsuna can willingly dish out with his own hands, and is therefore a more efficient way of pulling down his Budhha ranking. It’s like killing two birds with one stone.

 

For the record, his hyper intuition tells him that this is a terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad idea, and that he’s significantly raising his already alarming mortality risk with this stunt, but between that and the imminent manhood-withering lecture Reborn will give him for chickening out, he’ll take the higher death chances.

 

Gokudera practically floats towards his seat and settles himself importantly on Tsuna’s right. On the couch, Reborn slaps an ice pack on the ugly bruise blooming on Dino’s solar plexus, which makes the latter yelp in pain.

 

Tsuna winces in sympathy, well aware of the fact that luring Hibari into a trap is like trying to coax a pack of man-eating tigers on meth into a janitor's closet. He had been grateful that Reborn volunteered to take care of that task, sparing Tsuna a couple of cracked ribs and dislodged internal organs. Of course, by volunteer, it turns out that Reborn actually meant involving even more people into this suicide mission, and called on his other star pupil to do so for him.

 

Tsuna briefly wonders if this is Reborn's roundabout way of saying he cares, by making sure that Hibari has more choices in his murder shortlist as opposed to having Tsuna as a sole target.

 

"Pay up, Mammon," Reborn is saying into his phone.

 

Apparently not.

 

Tsuna glances sideways at the Cavallone Tenth, who is currently moving on to his next phase of pain management and raiding Tsuna’s alcohol cabinet. "You know Hibari-san's going to hurt us after this, right?"

 

Dino takes out a bottle of Screaming Eagle and reaches for a corkscrew. “Yes."

 

"Hurt us really really badly."

 

"Uh-huh."

 

"Hurt us like we've never been hurt before."

 

"Totally worth it," Dino says, as he pours two glasses.

 

Tsuna raises an eyebrow as he takes the glass Dino offers him. "What did Hibari-san do to you anyway?"

 

"You mean aside from barging into my study to test new box weapons while I was in the middle of a very nice "Welcome Back" gift from my favourite swordsmen?" Dino answers sourly, swirling his wine before taking a measured sip.

 

Gokudera’s expression looks like he’s torn between laughing uproariously or being grossed out at the information he really does not need to know about his usual mission partner.

 

"Was that also the same time you accidentally photocopied your dick when you landed on the Xerox machine?" Reborn says, making Dino spray out a mouthful of wine. "One hopes that incident didn't result to your untimely sterility."

 

It’s decided. Uproarious laughter it is.

 

Dino’s face is the shade of the wine he’s wiping off his suit. "I'll have you know that I am still very much virile and perfectly capable of making little Cavallones in the future," he retorts, before rounding on to Gokudera. "And it's not funny Gokudera! Try fighting off multiplying cockatrices while sporting blue balls and see how _you_ like it."

 

This only makes Gokudera laugh harder. Only pure and habitual empathy with Dino's woes is able to keep Tsuna from doing the same.

 

“Anyway, this day has been a long time coming, huh little bro?” Dino says, making an effort to divert attention away from that humiliating memory. “It’s a good thing you’re finally dealing with Kyouya and Mukuro properly.”

 

“Yes…. good for me,” Tsuna reluctantly agrees. He could argue and remind Dino that he's the one who's way too eager to put Hibari in his place, but Tsuna really doesn’t want to start another one of their regular arguments on “who's the jackass responsible for Hibari's current status as humanity’s answer to the chemical equation of violence.” Though these have lessened as of late, after Reborn once told them they argue like two parents absolving responsibility for their eternally sticky and troublesome child. ("He's _your_ guardian." "He's _your_ student." “You're the one who's always letting him do as he pleases!" "Well you were the one who taught him how to do that cloud flame move with a heightened area of effect!”) The ensuing horrible mental images have been a successful deterrent so far; besides which, should Hibari get wind of any blasphemous insinuations that he originated from two no-good herbivores, joke or not, the carnage and destruction that would undoubtedly occur would defy description.

 

Shaking his head, Tsuna focuses back on their current task and gently touches Gokudera’s arm, giving him the signal to begin.

 

Gokudera’s sporting that dreamy, giddy look he normally only gets whenever Tsuna tells him he’s the best right hand man ever. But then again, it’s Mukuro and Hibari, trapped in spinning wheels. It’s exactly the kind of happy thought that will last Gokudera for the entire year.

 

“Are you ready?” Tsuna asks, leaning back on his chair.

 

Gokudera nods and enters the first command on the tablet.

 

It’s showtime.

*

 

 

Mukuro’s moving closer. Or rather, the plates are moving closer to each other. This wouldn’t be much of a problem, except that the shortening distance has already breached Hibari’s personal bubble radius of 3 meters. Mukuro doesn’t even flinch, and just continues smiling beatifically at him, as if he’s about to settle down for a tea party instead of being helplessly thrust closer to sharing the same breathing space as his mortal nemesis.

 

The plates move unhurriedly, but steadily.

 

Hibari Kyouya is not the type to panic, but as the plates show no signs of stopping, the possibility of dying an exceptionally vile death by getting crushed against the person who’s been responsible for half the miserable moments of his life makes adrenaline begin to race inside him. He then renews his attempts to free himself, this time employing a series of vicious tugs at his cuffs, all applied with the force normally reserved for yanking Strau Moscas around via chain flail. No dice. He could probably break himself free if he still has his flames, but Dino had been surprisingly thorough and took all his rings and gear.

 

One meter. Mukuro responds to Hibari’s unease by making appalling kissy faces in his direction, which makes Hibari temporarily forgo the thought of receiving a more dignified death if he’s allowed to punch Mukuro in the mouth one last time before he goes.

 

The plates move closer until all he sees is Mukuro’s obnoxious Italian nose, and Hibari closes his eyes. As far as last thoughts go, the idea of his remains being forever mushed with this nappo bastard is really not what he has been expecting.

 

It takes him a while to realize that he’s stopped moving.

 

*

  
“I’m in love with this machine already,” Dino says, eyeing the panel in Gokudera’s hands enviously. “But that was close.”

 

“Too close,” Tsuna mutters.

 

“It’s the perfect distance,” Gokudera says, looking like he’s about to vomit with glee.

 

*

 

Eyelids fluttering open, Hibari’s vision is suddenly overwhelmed by Mukuro’s heterochromatic eyes, and he nearly gives himself a concussion, banging his head back against the plate in his haste to put more space between them.

 

Mukuro laughs at his reaction and his breath ghosts along Hibari’s chin.

 

Hibari has never given any physical indication of being discomfited with someone straying too close to his personal space bubble, apart from a reflexive swing of his tonfa, but the distance between him and Mukuro is absurdly non-existent. No really, if he just moves his head a bit forward he’d be rubbing noses with the man.

 

It makes him supremely uncomfortable, and Hibari hates the fact that something has bothered him greatly enough to make him feel uncomfortable more than his being uncomfortable itself.

 

He averts his eyes to the side and proceeds to his regular protocol when finding himself temporarily restrained : exercising his limited creativity in mapping out the worlds of pain and carnage he’s going to unleash on his foolish captors. An island of hematoma blooming near the hipbone. Strategically uprooted lumbar column.  A carefully crunched, split-level collarbone. And for a finishing touch, a relocated tibia somewhere past the anal cavity.  

 

Across and much too close to him, Mukuro smirks in amusement.

 

"When I'm done with this, I'm going to rip out Sawada Tsunayoshi's newfound spine and use it to flay the skin off that stupid pony's bones,” Hibari declares in quietly enraged tones.  “And then I will feed their remains to that perverted doctor."

 

Mukuro shakes his head and makes an extremely irritating tutting noise. "You shall do no such thing to Tsunayoshi’s body,” he says. “It’s the instrument of all my grand schemes, and I already claimed all rights to it long ago."

 

Hibari glares at Mukuro, displeased with his presumption. "Believe me, that herbivore would rather die by my hand than submit himself to yours."

 

Mukuro is undeterred. "Why would he do that? When the first thing I would do upon gaining possession of him is engage in a month of wicked debauchery, spreading his seed far and wide.”

 

Hibari pauses in his current train of murderous thought in an attempt to process what Mukuro just said. "That's your plan to destroy the mafia?" he asks, one eyebrow raised. "Breed an army of illegitimate heirs?"

 

Mukuro harrumphed. "Never underestimate the destructive power of squabbling siblings."

 

Hibari snorts. “This is why I hate illusionists. You think your ability to construct things into being compensates for your infinite rabbit hole of stupid ideas.”

 

"I wouldn't expect a less-evolved life form such as yourself to understand," Mukuro retorts.

 

Hibari opens his mouth to tell Mukuro what kind of life forms Hibari would liken _him_ to, but Mukuro speaks up again.

 

"Barring that, I've always wished to know how it would feel like to have sex with myself while possessing another person's body," Mukuro says, a disturbingly wistful expression on his face. "With Tsunayoshi's flight, my illusions, and maybe a little help from Verde’s Reality Illusion Glove, it will be the stuff of carnal glories untold."

 

Hibari rethinks his position on his punishment. Because not only is he stuck with Rokudo Mukuro, he’s stuck with Rokudo Mukuro in his _highest raving lunatic setting_. There is absolutely no way this punishment is for both of them because Mukuro is obviously in on this. "You are disgusting."

 

"Aw, are you jealous?" Mukuro smiles consolingly. "Don't worry, I'll do it among the clouds and think of you."

 

Hibari stares long and hard at Mukuro, mentally debating as to which part of that statement he should take more offense to- the insinuation that he'll be jealous of Mukuro’s usage of Sawada Tsunayoshi as a sex doll or Mukuro's conviction that having sex in the clouds counts as metaphorical defilement.

 

In the end, he says nothing. He does smash his forehead on Mukuro’s stupid nose though.

 

*

 

“I’ll arrange for a Gola Mosca to shield your spine Tenth!” Gokudera volunteers enthusiastically, as he takes a note of it in his smartphone. “Also, your Wednesday and Thursday 1600h slots are free if you want to arrange for a precautionary vasectomy. Not that I’ll let that bastard Mukuro possess you but—“

 

“—Thanks Hayato, but I can manage,” Tsuna says weakly, still reeling from this latest information about Mukuro’s ever dynamic world domination schemes. “Also, I’m pretty sure that’s the kind of decision I need to discuss with Kyoko.”

 

Dino whistles. “Wow, Mukuro sure is a handful Tsuna. How do you deal with this everyday?”

 

Tsuna shrugs. "Over the years, my hyper intuition has developed an autopixel function which triggers whenever Mukuro opens his mouth."

 

“Whoa, really?”

 

 “I wish. Why do you think I have an alcohol cabinet?”

 

“Besides, an autopixel function won’t help with the grabby hands,” Gokudera grumbles. “Seriously, it’s like he has more than two sometimes.”

 

Dino raises an eyebrow. “So how do you deal with _that?_ ”

 

"We don’t. It’s a lot less effort than fending him off,” Tsuna replies with a long-suffering sigh. “We all just try to convince ourselves that it’s an incurable habit, stemming from the possibility that he was some sort of Hindu god in his past life.”

 

“That or a giant squid,” Gokudera adds.

 

“Wow.” Dino looks back at the screen. “And you’ve chosen to inflict this all on Kyouya at point blank range.”

 

Tsuna groans as he is once again reminded of the gravity of what he’s allowed to happen. “I went too far didn’t I?”

 

“Hell no.” Dino grins and gives Tsuna a hearty pat on the back. “I’m proud of you lil bro.”

 

Tsuna is not reassured at all. “Tell me that again if we survive this.”

 

*

 

"You’re such a brute, Hibari Kyouya,” Mukuro says, his glare significantly lessening in intensity due to  his smarting nose. “And here I was about to tell you about my escape plan.”

 

Hibari raises an eyebrow. This is an interesting development. "You’ve figured out how to escape?”

 

"Yes. We free ourselves from the cuffs obviously.”

 

Hibari seriously contemplates the feasibility of literally biting off Mukuro’s nose to render him incapable of regular speech, since Hibari is currently incapable of beating the smartass out of him. “And you know how to do that?” he grits out.

 

Mukuro tips his head down and glances at a point between their bodies. "Well, the Bucking Horse may have slipped the release switch in my pants while you were out cold from your one-sided skirmish with deadly pink flora."

 

Bite off his nose and tear out his throat. "In your pocket you mean."

 

Mukuro looks back at him and grins like a fiend. "Yeah, the pocket that contains some very precious jewels if you get my drift."

 

There’s a heavy pause that follows these words, as Hibari’s breathing changes ever so slightly to denote a rapid increase in his efforts to keep calm.

 

"So you're telling me," he starts, his voice simmering with cold, unadulterated murder. "That the key to our release..." His hands clench almost painfully and he practically spits out the next words. "…Is in your crotch."

 

Mukuro surprisingly refrains from cracking the obvious joke. "Mmm, that's about it, yes.”

 

*

 

"You kept the release switch in Mukuro's crotch?” Tsuna asks, whirling around on Dino.

 

"What- no! I put it in Kyouya’s pocket!”

 

Tsuna makes one of his famous panicking chicken dances before starting for the door. “Ohmygod, I have to tell Hibari-san!”

 

“No you won’t,” Reborn says, pulling Tsuna back with a Leon turned shepherd’s hook. “I want to see this.”

 

Tsuna wrings his hands. “But Mukuro—“

 

“—Is a lying liar who lies, what else is new,” Reborn says with a bored drawl. “Now sit down and let Hibari deal with him.”

 

*

 

"I think this is a good time to remind you that I have the highest body count in Vongola history."

 

"I don’t know, I think my last mission beat your record, if Tsunayoshi moving on to French expletives is any indication,” Mukuro says airily. “Anyway, there you go. We just need to get the switch out and we're off to seek vengeance for our slighted selves. You can have the bronco, leave our precious boss to me. Try not to kill Shamal as his unique skill set would be a bitch to replace."

 

"We don't have use of our hands right now. Idiot. You're the illusionist, do something about this."

 

Mukuro shakes his head, feigning great sorrow. "Alas, I wasn’t aware that the next phase of the Estraneo experiments was the administration of prehensile sexual organs and unfortunately, I killed everyone in the lab after they installed the six paths of hell. So I can’t help you there.”

 

Hibari is ready to kill someone. Well he's always in a killing mood, but it's especially strong at this moment. He'll happily start with this lecherous pathogen, then proceed with his earlier spine-ripping, skin-flaying, doctor force-feeding plan.  And then kill everything over one foot tall with a pulse.

 

"Well, there’s something we can try,” Mukuro says, when Hibari maintains his stony, murderous silence. “All we need to do is press the button right?

 

Hibari grits his teeth. “No. Hands.”

 

“So we need to be creative,” Mukuro says dismissively. “We just need to find the right angle and generate enough pressure to depress the button.”

 

Hibari’s eyes narrow at the implications of this.

 

“You know the story of Aladdin right?” Mukuro continues. “How he managed to get the genie out of the lamp? Well I think if we both shift our hips a little bit forward and rub—"

 

"Fuck. You."

 

"Yes, but don’t get too ahead of me Kyouya, that bit can follow when one or both of us are free.”

 

Hibari’s rage is so palpable, it’s a miracle that it hasn’t taken physical form yet and kicked Mukuro’s teeth in. “I refuse to dry hump you in the name of freedom.”

 

Mukuro scowls. “Figures you’d be the lazy type,” he grumbles, looking forlorn. “Alright,  fine, but as the person who’s going to do all the work, I think we’ve established what our roles in this relationship—OW! “

 

“We’ve established nothing,” Hibari spits out, reeling back after headbutting Mukuro a second time. “Stop talking or I’ll bite off your nose.”

 

*

 

“Is this whole thing on record?” Dino asks earnestly. “Because if it is, I want to get Kyouya’s  “I refuse to dry hump you in the name of freedom” as my new text ringtone.”

 

This declaration is followed by a horrified silence of considerable length as everyone else in the room shifts their eyes from the screen to Dino.

 

“What?” Dino says defensively.

 

Tsuna recovers first. “That’s—“

 

 “—actually a good idea Bucking Horse, holy shit,” Gokudera exclaims. “Damn, I wish I thought of that.” He does a quick check of the record settings and grins. “I call dibs on the ‘The Key to Our Release’ one.”

 

Tsuna reminds himself he’s well past the age of slamming his head repeatedly on his desk whenever his Family does something that challenges the encumbrance limits of his sanity. He should’ve known— Dino’s idea is suicidal _and_ would piss the fuck out of Hibari- which is pretty much right up Gokudera’s alley of good ideas alright. Up to now, it still boggles Tsuna’s mind how Gokudera can be a genius in practically everything and yet simultaneously possess the survival instincts of a man wearing a shirt made of raw bacon and strolling into a den of ravenous jackals.

 

“Ooh, that’s pretty good too. How about you Tsuna?”

 

“I’m still attached to my boring Jaws theme ringtone, thank you very much,” Tsuna says dryly. “I’m also very much attached to my life for that matter.”

 

“Meh, Kyouya’s gonna try to kill us for cooping him up with Mukuro anyway, so might as well go for broke,” Dino says with a shrug.

 

“Fascinating as this conversation is turning out to be, I’d like to get a move on,” Reborn says, looking pointedly at Gokudera. “They need to get the switch correct?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Dino says, scratching his head. “Even if I did hide it in Mukuro’s crotch, how will either of them get it? Without using Mukuro’s Aladdin technique I mean.”

 

"Simple. We do this,” Gokudera answers, and pushes the next button with a flourish.

 

*

 

Hibari only has a moment's warning before he feels the metal plate behind him groan and move. His stomach lurches unpleasantly, as the plates shift, moving up and spinning clockwise, and before he knows it, he finds himself upside down.

 

With Mukuro's crotch right in his face.

 

"Well this is certainly a good alternative," Mukuro says above him.

 

And with that, Hibari's rage meter reaches heretofore unknown levels and summarily explodes, rendering the entire Northern Italy asunder, with the Vongola mansion in the epicentre: a blinding supernova of towering purple flames and massive spiked balls, the air resounding with the dying cries and screams of the entire Vongola clan and their ilk.

 

Or at least that’s what would've happened if he still has his fucking Vongola gear. As it is, he’s unfortunately reduced to attempting to eviscerate Mukuro's jewels with only the force of his carnivorous will.

 

“Well don’t just stare there. My zipper won’t open itself you know.”

 

Hibari’s says nothing and continues to glare loathingly at Mukuro’s crotch.

 

“Look, it’s no loss to me if you do nothing,” Mukuro says. “But you’re upside down, and with gravity at the helm, you’ll be leaking blood out of your ears soon, and worse, suffer brain damage due to a great increase in intracranial pressure. And that’s not a very pleasant experience, believe me.”

 

_“…”_

 

Hibari may be the most stubborn person on the planet but his stubbornness is secondary to his predatory instinct for survival, and loathe as he is to admit it, Mukuro has a point. And really, dying by bleeding out slowly out of his ears and getting brain damaged because he refuses to filch a switch from an unhygienic place is a lot worse than dying by being crushed to death between two steel plates, by virtue of the fact that there is something he can do about the former, even if it is a vile, wretched something.

 

He looks back at the unenviable task in front of him and tries to form words, despite the oppressive weight of his fury. “Leather pants. No breathing space. Hotbed of bacteria. Disgusting.”

 

"Excuse me, I shower way more than you do and I use a special body wash with green tea extract," Mukuro snaps, apparently miffed at the implication that he has less than stellar hygiene. "Unlike you, who insist on using your cheap locker room soap."

 

Potshots to his Namimori-issued soap aside, Hibari’s more insulted to learn that extracts of his morning drink are being used as cleaning components for one's crotch. Specifically, the crotch of this nappo bastard. Which he is forced to stare at right now.

 

He moves forward and bumps his forehead to the front of Mukuro’s pants to check if Mukuro’s being truthful, and quickly moves back. "Why is this making you hard? Freak.”

 

"Oh don't let my stalwart tumescence intimidate you; I know you're not used to seeing anything bigger than the other Hibird."

 

"If I wasn't sure I'd be dying of STDs I wouldn't hesitate to bite off your stalwart tumescence.”

 

"I do not have any STDs. And even if I did, it wouldn't be a problem. That's what Shamal's for."

 

“Then you’d better search for a new doctor because he’ll be joining Sawada and Cavallone in the grave soon.”

 

Mukuro sighs. "Look, we need to get out of here,” he says, a hint of impatience seeping through his tone. “The key to our freedom is literally in my pants. Now, we can stay here and be snippy with each other, or you can put your teeth to good use and get us free."

 

Hibari resigns himself to his fate. "Fine,” he says through gritted teeth. “But for the record, I am killing you after this.”

 

“For the record, I originally wanted to make you suck on the business end of my trident, but this will suffice.”

 

Hibari does not dignify that last jibe with a response. There shall be plenty of time to trade verbal barbs, when he’s no longer in the danger of turning stupid from internal blood clots. He closes his eyes, takes a brief moment to reconcile himself with this severe blow to his dignity, and then gets a move on.

 

He has only managed to close his teeth around Mukuro’s zipper and pull it halfway down when he feels something sharp and _wet_ messing with his own pants.

 

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

 

*

 

"Holy _shit_.”

 

Tsuna springs up from his seat, looking ill. “Ohmygod this isn’t in the plan shit I can’t let this continue—" A bullet whizzes past his head, making a clear crack on the wall and he shuts up immediately, dropping back to his chair.

 

"Sit the fuck down, dame-Tsuna, you started this, it's your responsibility to see this through the end,” Reborn says, transforming Leon back to chameleon form.

 

Tsuna bites his lip . “But Reborn. This is sexual harassment. I _need_ to do something...”

 

“You don’t _need_ to do anything. Hibari’s a big boy, he can handle it. Just sit there and be entertained.”

 

“There’s nothing entertaining about this!”

 

“Of course there is,” Reborn says. “It’s not everyday we can see Hibari Kyouya blush.”

 

Tsuna’s nails are now making crescent indents on his face. “He’s not blushing, there’s a lot of blood rushing to his face because he’s _upside down.”_

 

“Tomato Tomatoh.”

 

“Reborn,” Tsuna says, more firmly this time, a glimpse of Vongola X seeping through. “I cannot, in good conscience, condone this.”

 

Reborn glances sideways at him, as if pleased with his daring but knowing it’s futile anyway, and shrugs. “Fine, let’s put it to a vote,” he says, and turns towards his other former student. “Dino?”

 

Dino smiles sheepishly. “Sorry Tsuna, but I really want to see what happens next.”

 

“Gokudera?”

 

“Same as the Tenth’s,” Gokudera says immediately.

 

Reborn taps his fedora with his gun. “So we need a tiebreaker then.”

 

Just then, the door to the room opens, and they all turn to look. Dino beams, Gokudera curses, Reborn smirks and Tsuna groans, burying his face in his hands.

 

Yamamoto Takeshi walks into the room, armed with his usual grin of razor-edged sunshine and two boxes of pizza. “Hey guys I brought snacks!” he says cheerfully, as he kicks the door closed without looking. “What did I miss?”

 

*

 

“What. Are. You. Doing.” It’s no longer a question.

 

Mukuro finally stops what he’s doing long enough to reply. “Being useful.”

 

“By giving me a blowjob?”

 

"I should think it’s obvious” Mukuro answers, sighing exasperatedly, his hot breath sending Hibari’s now exposed cock twitching. “I’m trying to divert blood away from your head.” Then he goes back to work, making Hibari draw a sharp breath when Mukuro does something wicked and possibly illegal with his tongue.

 

Common sense dictates that you should not threaten a person who has your genitalia between his teeth. Hibari’s long accepted that he just doesn’t have common sense where Rokudo Mukuro is concerned.

 

“I,” Hibari says, as a gasp escapes him without permission. “Will. Bite. You. Dead.”

 

Mukuro makes a sound like he's trying to do his trademark laugh, and the resulting vibrations transform the insults forming in Hibari’s tongue into something else entirely.

 

"You..." Hibari bites his lip hard and tastes blood.

 

Mukuro’s pants stay untouched.

 

*

 

“See? I totally called this,” Yamamoto says, gesturing at the screen with his pizza and unmindfully sending pepperoni flying in Tsuna’s direction, which is thankfully intercepted by Uri.

 

Dino frowns. “I don’t think this counts. It’s not voluntary on Kyouya’s end.”

 

“Yeah, but look at his _face_.”

 

“He looks constipated,” Reborn says.

 

“Are you sure?” Yamamoto squints and studies the screen with the scrutiny he normally uses behind the lens of a sniper rifle. “It looks more like the face he makes when he’s watching Apex Predators Awards on Nat Geo Wild, only a bit pinched and red… ‘Dera can you zoom in or something?”

 

“You are a sick son of a fuck and don’t call me that; also no, I am _not_ zooming in, goddamit what is _wrong_ with you?”

 

“Come on Gokudera,” Dino wheedles and tries to reach around him for the controls. “We’ve got topping privileges riding on this.”

 

Gokudera throws his arms protectively around the panel and fends Dino off with his elbows. “Gross. I don’t know what I hate more- you or that god-awful joke.”

 

Dino opens his mouth to no doubt tell Gokudera that he is being perfectly serious when Yamamoto suddenly makes a joyful whoop, like his favourite baseball team just hit a home run.

 

“Look, he used his hips!” Yamamoto says, with a complimentary fist pump. “I win.”

 

It’s official. There is nobody in Tsuna’s family who isn’t hellbent in driving him insane.

 

Dino folds his arms and mopes. “Am I the only one who remembers the time when Kyouya would rather entrust his balls to a rabid mutant chihuahua than put it anywhere near Mukuro’s mouth?”

 

Nobody. Tsuna never thought he’d see the day when he’ll actually long for his paperwork. The zombie apocalypse must not be far off.

 

“By ‘that time,’ you mean everything before the past half hour?” Gokudera answers moodily. “Yeah, I remember. What sucks is that I have to remember this too.”

 

“Well it is pretty surreal,” Yamamoto says.

 

 _Surreal AND painful_ , Tsuna adds silently.

 

“Yeah, who would’ve predicted that Mukuro would be the one to finally conquer Kyouya’s viciously protected… uh, tonfa.”

 

The pain. It just won’t _end._

 

“Thank you, Cavallone, for that revolting mental image,” Gokudera snaps, looking nauseated. “Expect my therapy bills in your mail next month.”

 

 _And mine_ , Tsuna says silently again, because god forbid that he give them the impression that Vongola X can be psyched out by anatomical parallels concerning his guardian’s choice of weaponry or something. Come to think of it, all of his guardians wield pretty suggestive weapons. Yamamoto and his sword. Mukuro, Chrome and their twin tridents. Hibari and his extendable tonfa. Lambo and his electrifying horns. Gokudera and his multi-shot cannon. Even Ryohei and his EXTREME FIST.

 

Dear god, they all sound like porno titles. Something inside Tsuna dies a little bit.

 

“I mean, Takeshi and I have tried several times to get him to join us in bed, and all we got are concussions and several bruised ribs for our efforts,” Dino continues as if Gokudera hasn’t spoken. And then he quickly adds, “But uh, don’t tell Squalo that.”

 

“What?!” Gokudera shouts. “Are you crazy? You actually want to sleep with him?”

 

“Well yeah,” Yamamoto says, head tilted curiously. “Don’t you?”

 

Gokudera makes a face like Yamamoto just told him to stick his dick into a blender and press puree. “I’m not that much of a dumbass to introduce my genitals to someone whose catchphrase is “bite you to death.” I mean, seriously, why do you even want to screw with that psychopath?”

 

Dino and Yamamoto exchange a look which sends Tsuna’s hyperintuition into overdrive.

 

“There’s his strength,” Dino answers.

 

“And his nice ass,” Yamomoto adds.

 

“And his extremely suggestive catch phrase.”

 

“And his fondness for you know, _birds.”_

 

“But mostly,” Dino says. “It’s his—“

 

“—sheer—“

 

“—raw —“

 

“Animal magnetism,” they chorus.

 

Tsuna’s forehead dives into the comforting arms of his oak desk. No relationship has ever been so sweet.

 

 

*

 

Hibari really can’t stop himself from thrusting his hips into Mukuro’s filthy, unfairly brilliant mouth. It’s the blood rush to his head. It’s causing some sort of massive hormonal disorder.

 

He’s so _close_. He chokes back another moan, and Mukuro increases the speed of his movements, making Hibari curse and writhe. Then just when the pressure is about to reach its crescendo, there’s a wet popping noise, and…

 

Mukuro stops, wrenching his head away.

 

“Oh hey, what’s this? Turns out the Bronco also put a switch in your pocket after all!”

 

That _bastard._ Hibari is going to murder him so hard his next reincarnations will feel it.

 

He tries to tell Mukuro as such but a sudden wave of dizziness hits him, as the blood to his head finally starts affecting his brain.

 

There’s a rustle of cloth and Hibari feels Mukuro’s chin applying pressure on something on his left hip.  “Found it. Don’t complain Kyouya,” he says, as he brings his head down to gaze at Hibari’s furious eyes. “Now, I’m going to drop this under your shirt and you’ll have to do a little shimmy to steer it down to your shirt sleeves and into your hand okay?”

 

Dizziness and the worst set of blue balls he’s ever had in his life are turning Hibari into an incoherent herbivore, which is completely unacceptable. So he only snarls and calls Mukuro something unintelligible but supremely foul he’s sure, which Mukuro interprets as “Fine.”

 

Mukuro goes back up and catches the device with his teeth. “Mmkay pheer phu fgo,” he says, and lets go.

 

*

 

“Oh my god,” Dino says, wincing in sympathy. “Mukuro, you _dick_.”

 

“Yeah well it serves that frigid bastard right,” Gokudera grouses, before realizing that he actually defended Mukuro and hurriedly makes up for it with: “But yes, Mukuro is the biggest bag of douche in the history of ever.”

 

“Someone needs to set Hibari upright,” Yamamoto says, looking concerned. “He’s turning really red.”

 

“Two minutes,” Gokudera says with a slight frown. “Darn, I thought they’d take longer to get the switch.”

 

Dino pales. “So wait- they’re scott free after this?”

 

“Well yeah,” Tsuna says. “Obviously, Hibari-san has suffered enough.”

 

Dino stands up abruptly. “I need to get Romario,” he announces, and hastily walks out.

 

But Dino being Dino trips over some non-existent bump on the rug two steps in, and pitches forward, arms windmilling as he reaches for the nearest solid object to break his fall.

 

Which only happens to be the control panel in Gokudera’s hands.

 

“Uh… What did I just press?”

 

*

 

The device is on its last few inches down Hibari's dress sleeve when the plate shifts again and he feels himself spinning back to an upright position, to his head’s and extremities’ relief. Unfortunately, this also causes the switch to roll back down his arm and he is forced to keep it in place with the side of his head, the switch resting awkwardly under his sleeves between his deltoid and cheek.

 

“Aw, back so soon? I wasn’t able to properly tuck in Hibird Two yet,” Mukuro says mournfully, looking utterly unapologetic.

 

Hibari ignores him and focuses on maneuvering the switch carefully with his chin, in a slow steady path to his collarbone. If he can’t activate it with his hand, he’ll activate it with his _teeth_ or his name’s not Hibari Kyouya.

 

And then fun times shall be had.

 

But before he could proceed, the next unusual thing happens.

 

He hears a faint whirr of gears, and then something presses on his lower back, making his hips jut forward, his still decidedly hard cock rubbing none too gently against the leather of Mukuro’s pants.

 

"Back support," Mukuro murmurs quietly, his own hips similarly elevated.  "Of course."

 

Before Hibari can ask what the hell Mukuro means by that, the third unusual thing happens.

 

The plates start to shake. Violently.

 

*

 

Today is one of those days that have been pulled straight from Satan’s asshole.

 

"... Oh my god. It does have a vibrate function.”

 

“Fuck, Cavallone, what did you do?” Gokudera yells, frantically flipping through the manual as he tries to reverse the situation.

 

“I’m sorry!” Dino cries, as he makes a completely useless attempt to remember the exact smash pattern of his hand.

 

“No Dino-san, that’s the laser button!” Tsuna shouts, grabbing Dino’s hand at the last minute, and steering him away from an incredibly pissed off Gokudera.

 

“What the fuck is a snow angel limb setting?” Gokudera rants, as he turns the pages with vicious force, almost tearing them right off the spine. “And where’s the universal stop button? Did Spanner seriously build this without a failsafe? What kind of bullshit is this?” After a few more minutes of fruitless searching and uttering the profanity equivalent of a hundred rap songs, Gokudera throws the manual to the floor in disgust. “Tenth, there’s nothing here mentioning a vibrate function,” he says angrily, shooting Dino looks of deepest loathing.

 

Dino makes a meeping sound, and hides behind Yamamoto, who immediately pats him soothingly on the back.

 

“Don’t be mean, Dera,” Yamamoto says, frowning. “Dino didn’t mean to trip on your toy. Besides, it’s not like those two aren’t enjoying themselves…”

 

“Toy is it?” Gokudera snarls. “Here’s an idea, why don’t I stick you down there with the two of them while I _toy_ with you using—“

 

“— Let’s not fight you guys,” Tsuna pleads, before Gokudera can continue that sentence and shit gets misconstrued again. “We need to do something about this.”

 

Reborn stands up and walks towards Gokudera. “There’s no other way I guess,” he says and takes the panel from Gokudera’s hands and tosses it to Tsuna.

 

Tsuna catches it, careful to not accidentally press anything as he does. “What do I do with this?”

 

“Hyper Intuition,” Reborn says morosely. “Use it.”

 

*

 

“Tsunayoshi is a liar,” Mukuro says, although his voice is heavily punctuated by shallow, intense breaths, and there’s a thin sheen of sweat covering the visible skin beneath his loosened collar.  

 

Hibari does not say anything, because his vocal chords are on lockdown to prevent himself from uttering some herbivorous sound to reveal the fact that apart from being unforgivably humiliating, this actually feels really damn good, and if he makes a mess on Mukuro’s pants, the bastard deserves it for being such an insufferable cocktease.

 

And then—

 

*

 

“Let’s hope this works,” Tsuna says, and pushes a series of buttons.

 

*

 

There are limits to what Hibari can endure. Granted, these limits stretch high and wide, and continue to climb higher with each new challenge he faces, but yes, even Hibari has his limits, though they tend to be well past everyone else’s.

 

However, those challenges he’s used to have always been of the battle survival sort, and right now, this is not the case. No, this particular challenge involves a conflict of interest between one of his two favoured emotions (manly pride, the other being anger) and primal biological _need_.

 

If he's to be completely honest with himself, he’s already reached the limits for this one. To put it simply, he’s now torn on whether or not to do something about his long-overdue climax and lower his dignity to get off on Mukuro’s pronounced, leather bound bulge OR reign in his wanton mating urges and silently endure, hoping his twice denied boner just wilts quietly into the night without any further incident.

 

The switch lies on the ground. Hibari didn't even notice it dropping, because really, it would be asking too much from his brain to concentrate on two separate things while getting the best machine-assisted frottage of his limited sexual life. 

 

To be fair, Mukuro looks annoyed as well. “As Vongola’s primary interrogator, I have to say that this machine sucks,” he says with an irritated huff. “I elect that it be moved to my quarters for further experimentation.”

 

Hibari barely hears him though, because he’s too busy concentrating on something else other than his medically worrisome erection. He has never really paid attention to the details of anyone’s face before. But this close to the Rokudo Mukuro, there isn’t much room to focus on anything else. The most noticeable feature of Mukuro’s face are his unique eyes, that much is obvious, and they tend to overshadow everything else. Like his mouth. Has Mukuro’s lips always been this pretty? It’s glistening and soft, obviously pampered by some sort of moisturizing product- the man is a veritable metrosexual after all. Right now, there’s a bead of moisture on the groove on his upper lip. Hibari suppresses the urge to lean forward and lick it off.

 

Hibari wonders where that last thought came from. Clearly, all that time spent hanging down has done something irredeemable to his brain.

 

After a prolonged pause, Mukuro catches him staring and smirks. “I suppose you want to continue this?”

 

Hibari glances up coolly. “If you can free us in the next ten seconds.”

 

“Hmm. Is that all?” Mukuro returns in equally measured tones, and his crimson eye flashes to reflect three straight lines. Realm of Beasts. Out of nowhere, a black crow appears and swoops down, grasping the switch in its talons.

 

The implication of this new development physically hits Hibari like lack of sleep.  “You can use your powers all along?”

 

“Tsunayoshi didn’t pluck my eye out, silly skylark,” Mukuro says, as the crow passes off the switch to his hand and promptly vanishes.

 

“Now,” he says, eyes glittering as he stares at HIbari’s incensed expression. “How good is your word again?”

 

*

 

"Hey Tsuna."

 

Tsuna turns away from the image of Hibari brooding quietly onscreen. "What?" he answers, only to be blinded by the combined power of Dino and Yamamoto's megawatt, hopeful smiles.

 

"I know what I want for my birthday," Dino says brightly.

 

Tsuna blinks, looks at the screen again, derives the conclusion that Dino’s talking about the device making Hibari’s life a living hell right now, and waits for Dino to laugh and say something like “haha punked you!” None comes, and Tsuna realizes to his utmost horror, that Dino’s actually being _serious_. "Uh. No."

 

“Both our birthdays then,” Yamamoto bargains with his best winning smile. “You could give it sometime on March.”

 

“No.”

 

“Our birthdays and Christmas?” Dino tries.

 

“Stop badgering the Tenth, you perverts.”

 

“I propose a timeshare on the device then,” Dino says, using the deadly combination of persuasive Mafia boss tones infused with the guilt-tripping effect of Cavallone-style puppy eyes.

 

Tsuna pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dino-san, this is an interrogation machine meant for Vongola prisoners not a… sex appliance.”

 

“That’s not what it looked like a while ago.”

 

“That was obviously a malfunction. Also, apropos of nothing, Mukuro sexualizes everything just by breathing near it.”

 

“Well yeah, he’s very talented in that regard,” Dino mentions offhandedly. “When he tells you he’ll give you an otherworldly experience, you’d better believe him.”

 

Tsuna nearly spits out his wine at this unexpected segue. “You’ve slept with Mukuro?”

 

“Who hasn’t slept with Mukuro?” Yamamoto asks, with an expression like he couldn’t understand why on earth Tsuna would be surprised.

 

Tsuna opens and closes his mouth a few times before finding his answers. “I haven’t. And I’m pretty sure Hibari-san hasn’t. And Hayato.”

 

Reborn grins. “Are you sure about that?”’

 

Tsuna’s jaw drops rather comically, and Gokudera, shamefaced, looks to the side. “Forgive my appalling behaviour Tenth. I got desperate when I wasn’t allowed anymore Vicodin after the Naples mission, so when he told me of a pain relieving technique he picked up from his past life, I agreed... and by the time I realized what he was doing, my pants were off and he’s quoting the Fifth Element in my ear,” he mumbles, unaware of Tsuna’s rapidly slackening expression. “If it helps, I totally punched him in the face when I recovered.”

 

“Don’t blame Gokudera, Tsuna,” Dino says, rubbing Tsuna’s back soothingly. “Mukuro’s not really kidding about having more knowledge than the kama sutra. Which actually lends more credence to your Hindu god theory, come to think of it.”

 

“Yeah!” Yamamoto agrees, nodding enthusiastically. “He does this shuweeshuwee thing with his illusions that turns into a brrmbrrmBRRRRRMMM and then culminates with a bamwooshqueee that makes you feel like DAAAAAANNNNG afterwards.“

 

And that’s how Tsuna learns the hard way that the only thing worse than hearing about Mukuro’s indiscriminate mating habits is hearing Yamamoto elaborate on them.

 

“Okay, I’m not sure about the rest of it but I can attest for the last bit,” Dino says with a nod. “Sex with Mukuro is just… DAAAAAANG.”

 

“Daaaaaanng,” Yamamoto repeats.

 

“Please never speak to me again,” Gokudera says. “Both of you.” Yamamoto laughs, and proceeds to regale him with more scintillating details.

 

Tsuna snaps out of his daze. “I’m going to call Spanner,” he announces loudly, effectively stopping Gokudera from attacking Yamamoto with the pizza slicer.

 

Three rings and then, "Yes Vongola?"

 

"Spanner,” he says. “Explain to me why that interrogation machine has a vibrate setting.”

 

There’s a long pause at the other end of the line. Then finally, “Gianini.”

 

"Ah." Tsuna rubs his temple. "Noted. That would be all Spanner."

 

He ends the call, fishes a capsule out of his pocket and places it in on his desk. "Looks like I might be needing this after all."

 

Gokudera does a double take. "Is that from Shamal?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Who's it for?"

 

"This is for Hibari-san," Tsuna answers.

 

"But didn't you already give him the antidote?” Dino asks, confused.

 

"Yes."

 

"So..."

 

Tsuna shrugs. "Just in case,” he says and waits for Hibari’s move.

 

*

 

Hibari’s word is gold. So.

 

They drop to the ground rather ungracefully, and Hibari wastes no time preserving what’s left of his dignity and tucking himself back into his pants, while Mukuro wastes no time preventing him from doing so.

 

“I’ll bite you to death for your trickery,” Hibari snarls, slamming an elbow into Mukuro’s ribs before grabbing him by the left side collar and yanking down, ruining the shirt, buttons popping out and flying in all directions. “Blight of nature.”

 

“That was Armani,” Mukuro hisses, shoving Hibari hard against the steel wall, and grinding his hips against him. “Fucking barbarian.”

 

“Demonspawn,“ Hibari counters, digging his fingers into Mukuro’s scalp, and dragging his teeth  along the flesh of Mukuro’s neck.  

 

“Uncivilized brute,” Mukuro growls and cranes his neck forward, as he flicks the tip of his tongue against Hibari’s earlobe and breathes, “ _Kyouya._ ”

 

The seductive sound of his name from Mukuro’s lips shouldn’t turn him on so much, considering how Mukuro blatantly disrespects it with his casual usage, but it does; Hibari hates it but it makes him _want_ so much, that instead of shoving Mukuro away when Mukuro tangles his fingers in Hibari’s hair and finally kisses him, he only bites down on Mukuro’s lip hard enough to taste metal.

 

Mukuro pulls back, licks the blood off his lips, and grins, gloating at Hibari’s reaction to this unwarranted familiarity.

 

Hibari doesn’t want to say Mukuro’s name. “Hate you,” he says instead, pulling Mukuro’s striped tie by the knot, and kissing him with a brutal, punishing force. Mukuro chuckles and Hibari tightens his grip on the tie, forming a luxurious noose around Mukuro’s neck.

 

Mukuro just smirks into Hibari’s mouth and retaliates by targeting down, gloved fingers wrapping around Hibari’s unmade belt buckle. Hibari grabs the wrong arm, and Mukuro pulls the belt free of its loops with enough force to break the sound barrier, a sharp delicious crack that sends a foreign thrill down Hibari’s spine.

 

“That’s fine, because this would be boring otherwise,” Mukuro answers softly, deft hands moving quickly to divest Hibari of his suit jacket, which Hibari impatiently helps him with. The expensive material drops to the floor and Mukuro kicks it away, before turning his attention back to tasting the salt of Hibari’s skin.  Hibari closes his eyes, head tipped back.

 

“Tsunayoshi punished me because of you, you know,” Mukuro murmurs, and runs a finger lightly along the subtle protrusion of Hibari’s hipbones, dipping slightly into his pants, an innocuous touch that for some obscene reason, makes Hibari’s knees buckle.

 

“He hasn’t punished you properly then,” Hibari snaps, and leans back against the wall for support, because he’s not taking any chances of letting Mukuro pick up on him getting weak-kneed.

 

“No he hasn’t,” Mukuro agrees, before promptly shoving the rest of his hand down Hibari’s pants, making Hibari swear and jerk into Mukuro’s touch, nearly driving him mad with _needwantneed_.

 

Mukuro’s eyes gleam with the intense hunger of a predator about to devour his prey. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll forget your name,” he whispers, teeth scraping along the shell of Hibari’s ear. “And then, I’m going to fuck you _blind_.”

 

*

 

On the one hand, at least he’s given a few more minutes to live, as Hibari seems to have temporarily forgone his plan to surgically remove Tsuna’s spine in favour of alternately biting Mukuro’s face and slamming him around the room.

 

On the other hand…

 

“God,” Gokudera grumbles, though his riveted gaze belies his tone. “It’s like watching a fucking trainwreck.”

 

“A violent, sexy train wreck,” Yamamoto corrects, eyes glazed.

 

“Like two freight trains carrying fifty tons of pure sex crashing against each other,” Dino remarks, similarly enthralled.

 

… Mukuro’s got his gay guardians (plus one big brother) under his evil sexy sway. Without even knowing it. Also, while spending the rest of his supposed punishment having his merry way with Hibari Kyouya.

 

Tsuna’s grand master plan of enforcing discipline on his unruly subordinates has officially hit rock bottom.

 

And then the door opens once again. That’s when rock bottom officially hits _him_.

 

"Papan, what are Uncle Kyouya and Uncle Mukuro _doing_?"

 

Dino and Yamamoto immediately shoot up from their seats, as Gokudera hurriedly switches off the screen.  

 

"Excuse us Tsuna,“ Dino says in flustered tones, as he hastily adjusts his pants. “Takeshi and I need to uh, go um, play… baseball. Yeah."

 

"Oh,” Sawada Tomoe says, stepping further into the room. “May I join?"

 

"NO!" Dino and Gokudera yell at the same time. Tsuna has a sudden insane urge to set the whole room on fire.

 

"It's uh, a different kind of baseball,” Yamamoto explains. “We play it while um, riding horses."

 

"With a sword," Dino adds.

 

“VOOIIIII, KATANA BRAT! BUCKING HORSE! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU CALL ME OVER HERE?" Judging from the decibel level, Squalo has probably entered the premises two floors down.

 

“Two swords.” Dino corrects himself.

 

“And a bendy whip,” Yamamoto adds, because today is apparently ‘Let’s see how much innuendo we can inflict on Tsuna’s brain before he snaps and encases our dicks in ice’ day.

 

Tomoe’s brow furrows cutely. "That doesn't sound like baseball."

 

"You'll understand when you're older,” Dino tells the seven-year-old Vongola heir sincerely, as Yamamoto hurriedly steps out the room to intercept Squalo. “Later little bro!” Dino calls out and proceeds to trip his way out into the corridor.

 

When the doors slam closed, Tomoe frowns and turns towards her perennially stressed-out father. “Papan, what were they talking about? Does it have something to do with what Uncle Mukuro and Uncle Kyouya were doing?”

 

Because Tsuna looks like he’s two seconds away from a coronary, of course it makes sense for Reborn to exacerbate the situation as much as possible. “It’s the love that dares not speak its name,” he says.  

 

“ _Reborn!”_

 

“So how come Uncle Dino calls it baseball?” Tomoe asks, ignoring the sound of her father choking on his own mortification.

 

 “CHROME!” Tsuna yells, before Reborn can answer that and add Oscar Wilde to his precious scion’s bedtime reading list.

 

Fortunately, his sole female guardian immediately appears into the room in a veil of mist, a nifty trick she learned from Mukuro, holding Tomoe’s stuffed pink gloomy bear in one hand and what seems to be a steel contraption designed to castrate bulls in the other. Tsuna gapes and fervently hopes that this isn’t what Mukuro meant when he mentioned in passing that Chrome is branching out her skills by acquiring more intimidating weaponry, because he’s pretty sure he felt his junk retreating into his body cavity upon seeing it.

 

“I picked this up for Bianchi-san in the mail,” Chrome says as if reading Tsuna’s mind.  

 

 “Right,” Tsuna says and makes a mental note never to piss off Bianchi _ever,_ before turning back to his daughter. “Tomoe, sweetheart, Auntie Chrome will now teach you the… uh…”

 

“Vital kill points of the human body,” Chrome suggests helpfully.

 

“Yes, the vital kill— wait what?”

 

The warm hazel eyes Tomoe inherited from her mother widen with what Tsuna feels to be badly misplaced joy. “Really Papan? Does this mean I can start my own body count soon?”

 

Tsuna stops trying to mask his distress. “Body… count?”

 

“She heard Mukuro-sama talking about beating Cloud man’s high score one time,” Chrome explains apologetically.

 

“What?! That bas- buttface!” Gokudera says, almost forgetting the unspoken censorship rule when basking in the presence of his boss’ progeny.

 

“Please Papan?”

 

Tsuna gives up on life. ”Auntie Chrome will teach you combat anatomy. But no body count until you’re eighteen.”

 

“But Uncle Mukuro started at seven!” Tomoe protests.

 

“Uncle Mukuro was a—“ _hellspawn, abomination of this world, mass-murdering psychopath_ “—very special child.”

 

“And I’m not?”

 

“Tomoe,” Reborn says, stepping up. “You can start your body count once you’ve commenced training under me, as future Vongola Undicesimo. Now scram or I’ll shoot your father.”

 

“Okay, I’ll remember that Uncle Reborn!” Tomoe says happily, and allows herself to be whisked away by Chrome.

 

Tsuna makes sure that they’ve gone out of hearing range before relaxing. “That was mean Reborn,” he complains, frowning, but ultimately relieved to see his daughter out of the zone of early and unplanned corruption.

 

“Mean?” Reborn says, with a short bark of laughter. “Tsuna, you let _Mukuro_ babysit your kid.”

 

“Touché,” Tsuna mutters, and falls back in a graceless heap on his chair. “I am getting too old for this. I’m just glad that this is all ov—”

 

Reborn switches the screen on again before Tsuna can finish that sentence.

 

*

“I’m going to fuck you _blind_.”

 

All of Hibari’s wayward thoughts come crashing down upon hearing those words.

 

Oh _no way_. Absolutely not.

 

“Like hell you will,” Hibari hisses and flips them around, slamming Mukuro’s back none too gently against the wall.

 

Mukuro grunts but immediately recovers as he sweeps a leg, knocking Hibari off balance, and twists himself back to their original position. “You should defer to me because I, unlike you, have extensive experience being inside people,” he says, fingers tightening on Hibari’s wrists. “In more ways than one, kufufufu”

 

Hibari smirks and breaks Mukuro’s hold with nothing but raw strength (he’s not the Vongola’s strongest guardian for nothing) and immediately yanks Mukuro by the collar and shoves his face down on the nearby table. “I submit to no one,” he says coldly. As an added measure, he twists Mukuro’s right arm behind him and leans down, applying pressure, his chest parallel to Mukuro’s back.

 

Mukuro sighs, somehow managing to retain an air of amused hauteur despite being nose deep in Spanner’s toolbox. “You know, if you weren’t such a big prize to my collection, I wouldn’t bother to work this hard.”

 

Hibari almost loses an eye to the screw driver Mukuro attempts to stab him blindly with, and releases Mukuro to throw himself back. He uses the momentum to drop himself to the ground rolling, and simultaneously grabs something from the tools scattered on the Mosca workspace before getting back to his feet in one smooth motion.

 

He hefts the heavy duty socket wrench into his dominant arm, and raises it, readying himself into a fighting stance.

 

Mukuro sees Hibari’s wrench, and then looks at his puny screwdriver.

 

“Shit.”

 

*

 

Tsuna knows there’s probably a dozen jokes that can be garnered from this, ranging from irony, puns, and just plain  ol’ reliable vulgarity involving Mukuro’s unfortunate choice of impromptu weapon, but considering how high-strung he is right now, he doesn’t think he can take another humorous jab at the situation without having the urge to flip a table and maybe punch a hole in the wall for good measure.

 

Fortunately, Dino and Yamamoto have already left.

 

*

 

Somewhere along the way, Hibari has managed to appropriate his ring and Vongola box, which for some reason, were left lying around in a ziplock bag in one of the toolboxes. He vows to make Cavallone’s imminent death extra painful for this blatant disrespect of his powerful relics. Relics which he could technically use to put a stop to this farce, but that would be overkill. No, repeated application of blunt force trauma on this arrogant, lascivious son of a she-dog using a garage tool would be an immensely more satisfying experience.

 

Mukuro twirls out of range again, and Hibari’s cloud flame reinforced socket wrench crunches against glass and metal. There goes another Mosca. Oh well, Sawada Tsunayoshi will pay for the damages.

 

“This is rather unfair you know,” Mukuro says, before letting his last illusion of a gigantic fat Hibird fade away, when Hibari makes it clear that no amount of visual skulduggery could make it past his keen senses. “Tsunayoshi didn’t give me back my hell rings.”

 

“Quit complaining and fight,” Hibari says, and brings his hand down.

 

Mukuro parries the blow with his pathetic weapon, which flies right off his hands. He watches it clatter on the floor and sighs resignedly. “Oh well, I don’t need to compensate for anything anyway.”

 

“Your perversity is astounding,” Hibari says, and reels his arm back to take another swipe.

 

Mukuro lets out a deep breath and raises his hands, which Hibari knows better to deem as surrender. “I was hoping I wouldn’t need to use this,” he says sadly, and his crimson eye flashes the first path.

 

Hibari freezes as the first sakura petal grazes his cheek.

 

*

 

“Here goes nothing,” Tsuna whispers, and breaks the capsule open.

 

*

 

Hibari summons all his force of will to not spontaneously combust in a ball of vitriol. He always used to scoff at the idea of Murphy’s law, proclaiming it a pathetic excuse herbivores use to explain their misfortune. But now, Hibari would very much like to go extend his research to time travel for the sole purpose of going back in time and biting this Murphy chump to death.

 

From the edges of his hearing, he hears the dim buzz of wings. That’s when he notices the faint but visible spot on Mukuro’s neck.

 

Hibari smirks and flexes his hand, his unfettered power surging through his veins. He takes a split-second to relish the widening of Mukuro’s eyes before Hibari pushes through with his original intention and sends the bastard flying across the room.

 

*

 

“Uh… Tenth, wasn’t that supposed to be for Hibari?”

 

“It _is_ for Hibari-san,” Tsuna confirms. He picks up his forgotten glass of wine and takes a sip. “Mukuro already had his fun.”

 

*

 

Hibari is going to savour this moment for the rest of his life.

 

“So who’s kneeling now, Rokudo Mukuro,” he drawls, and takes a moment to drink in the sight of Mukuro on his knees, before planting his heel on Mukuro’s chest and pushing him back against the wall.

 

Mukuro glares mutinously at him, having lost the ability to make any more wiseass remarks courtesy of Hibari’s tie around his mouth. Deep purple flames dance casually around the steel of centuries-old hand cuffs, which are now securing Mukuro’s wrists and neck to steel pipes.

 

Hibari licks his lips and kicks Mukuro’s legs open. "Looks like Sawada Tsunayoshi gets to keep his spine after all," is all he says, and attacks. 

 

*

 

“Wow did he just— I mean, holy crap Mukuro wears really quality leather—“

 

“Yeah, Hibari-san has... very sharp teeth.”

 

Gokudera whistles. “Fucking wild beast”

 

And with that remark, Tsuna stands up to finally do what he should’ve done a long time ago. “I’m turning this thing off,” he declares in tones that brook no argument.

 

“Wuss,” Reborn says, before shrugging. “Fine.” 

 

Tsuna ignores the insult and follows through with his plan, right as it looks like Hibari’s about to administer his personal brand of carnivorous affections on Mukuro’s green-tea-scented, non-prehensile… weapon.

 

“It’s finally over,” he groans, as he slumps back into his chair and closes his eyes. “I’m never doing this again. Never. I’m sorry Gokudera, but this is a one-time thing.” _Because I’m clearly doing something wrong if I’m suffering as much as the people I’m trying to punish._

 

“I understand Tenth,” Gokudera says, with a humble nod. “I thank you for giving me this opportunity nonetheless.”

 

“Cheer up Tsuna,” Reborn says,  as he flips his phone open. “Think of the bright side.”

 

Tsuna cracks one eye open. “There’s a bright side?”

 

Reborn waves his phone in front of him. “I just got the latest ranking results from Fuuta”

 

Tsuna immediately sits up. “And?”

 

“You’re no longer the number one Buddha Boss —“

 

“YES!”

 

“And your “Peeping Tom Mafia Boss” ranking rose ten spots!”

 

“NO!”

 

“Dino’s still four spots ahead of you, if it makes you feel any better.”

 

“It doesn’t.”

 

“Too bad. Next, your ranking on “Most likely to go gay for their right—“

 

“—No more rankings about me please,” Tsuna moans, missing the crumpled expression on Gokudera’s face.

 

“Very well,” Reborn says, and scrolls down. “Mukuro dropped from his third spot among those who can top Hibari—“

 

“—On second thought, I’m done with rankings today—“

 

“—And I see I kept my number two spot.”

 

“WHAT!” Tsuna yelps. “Why are you even there? Don’t tell me I allocated a significant portion of our missions budget for your high class brothels when you’re—“

 

“—And if you listened to your grammar teacher, you’ll know the difference between ‘can’ and ‘will’ stupid student, or did you forget what I did to Hibari for calling me baby in front of all those women at the last annual Vongola ball?”

 

“Oh. Right.” Tsuna sags back on his chair, feeling relieved- for all the wrong reasons he’s sure, but he’s too drained to be assed about it. Probably an immediate effect of his lowered Buddha boss ranking. “Of course.”

 

“So who’s number one, Reborn?” Gokudera asks, obviously not getting the memo that Tsuna’s reached his quota of mental scars for the year.

 

Reborn flips his phone closed and quirks his lips to the side, tipping his fedora forward in that usual mysterious way of his. “Ask Shamal,” is all he says, before pointing his gun at Tsuna to get him started on his much missed and overdue paperwork.

 

*

The next day...

 

Tattered bits of leather in questionable locations. Extremely suspicious stains on the wall, floor... and ceiling. Broken toolboxes. Impossible cracks on the wall. A massacre of Gola Moscas. A socket wrench bent out of shape.

 

And a glaring absence of the latest Vongola-commissioned invention.

 

The wrench-shaped lollipop drops from Spanners mouth.

 

“What the _hell_ happened here?”

 

~fin~

 

**Author's Note:**

> Post A/N: This fic, it is full of stupid. Congratulations for making it this far.
> 
> And in case you didn't get it, no Shamal’s not number one; it’s actually his mosquitoes... who are the only creatures who have pierced Hibari’s tender, flawless, porcelain flesh in canon * is shot *
> 
> Lastly, in line of the Sawada tradition of naming their offspring after Japanese warriors, I named Tsuna’s daughter after Tomoe Gozen, who is incidentally the number one Google hit when I searched for Japanese warrior women.


End file.
